


Fast Car

by rochelleechidna



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angstshipping - Freeform, Belonging, Bigotry & Prejudice, Camping, Consensual Somnophilia, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fights, Fish out of Water, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Motorcycles, Road Trips, Semi-Public Sex, Slice of Life, Surprises, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rochelleechidna/pseuds/rochelleechidna
Summary: Malik worried why Ryou was pulling away - but it was nothing that a romantic getaway to the English countryside couldn't fix.
Relationships: Angstshipping, Bakura Ryou/Malik Ishtar
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	Fast Car

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frumplebump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumplebump/gifts).



> I wrote this fic for a few reasons: 1) the world needs more sweet and sexy angstshipping, 2) it's the anniversary of me getting back into YGO and 3) I believe it's around the same time that frumplebump did, too. She was literally the first person who welcomed me back into the fandom and has consistently been an awesome person to chat with about all sorts of topics - plus, her angstshipping fics are top-notch, go check them out right now, seriously! So, I figured I'd return the favour with a (self-indulgent) fic of my own :)

“Yes, the bike here is _perfectly_ safe, Isis. Ryou does a good job keeping her tuned up while I’m away, so I’m not concerned.”

“I don’t mean to pester. I’d just rather you both get to your destination in one piece so you can enjoy yourselves.”

“Yeah, well…” Malik peeked through to Ryou’s bedroom with a faint, yearning smile. “We’ll do our best.”

Malik paced on quiet feet from the hallway to the kitchen – thankful that his sister couldn’t see how very _not_ dressed he was over the phone. He grabbed a glass of water and drank as Isis carried on with vim and vigour. There may have been only a two-hour time difference between them, but with the way her voice sang while his was a faint whisper, it might as well have been night and day.

“So, Malik. Is there… _anything else_ you have to tell us?”

Isis’ tone shift threw Malik for a loop, and he nearly choked on his drink. He leaned against the counter for stability, hiding the apprehension in his voice as he answered his sister’s innocuous question.

“Uh… no?”

There was a pregnant pause for three, maybe six seconds, then—

“I see. Well, if anything does come up or… _change…_ you know Rishid and I are always here for you and would appreciate being the first to know.”

Malik’s mind raced like it was in a marathon. He tried not to think about the implications of what Isis was saying – of how, without too many words exchanged between them, she was mirroring his own worries from the past week. But Malik kept his anxiety under lock and key as he made to end the call _now._

“Yeah… Yeah, okay. I will.”

The half-promise still felt like a full lie. Praying he would _never_ have to discuss what he’d avoided thinking about recently, Malik finished the call and exhaled, slow. Only then did he notice the chill covering the large flat from both the faulty thermostat and the adrenaline coursing through his body.

Careful not to wake his boyfriend up, Malik rushed back into the bedroom and eased himself under the heated duvet. Ryou didn’t even budge – and for a brief moment, Malik forgot any concerns and just basked in the presence of the lovely vision lying next to him.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Just tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours…”

Malik wasn’t sure if he said the words as soft as a prayer, or merely thought them in his head.

He had been up for almost an hour – the sound of London's early weekend traffic adding to the holdover of his jetlag from a couple weeks prior. Not that he really minded the premature start. Malik was an early riser even back home, always racing to greet the first rays of sun peeking out over the horizon. The sight had been a comfort ever since he’d left the tombs fifteen years ago and—

Heaving a sigh, Malik refocused his attentions away from less pleasant memories and back to the man sleeping next to him.

There was something immensely soothing about the way Ryou’s chest rose and fell with each easy breath, how his white hair splayed around his face and tousled in a messy heap on the pillow. For all the nightmares Ryou still endured in sleep and while awake – that they _both_ still suffered from, Malik admitted – it warmed Malik’s heart to get these moments when his boyfriend didn’t have a care in the world.

Especially since those moments had subtly diminished of late.

Malik had arrived in the U.K. right as the weather had changed from tolerable to flat-out dreary – and with it, Ryou’s demeanour had similarly devolved. Perhaps it was the fact that Ryou worked such long hours for his archeological archiving position at one of the country’s most prestigious museums. Maybe it was the thousands of kilometres between Malik and Ryou and the promise of only seeing one another a few times each year – with this current trip ending in a few days, when Malik would be on an early flight bound for Luxor. Possibly, it was that between Malik and Ryou – despite the latter having lived in England for more than two years now – neither felt like this country was entirely _home._

But one thing was for certain – what had started out as one of Malik’s usual holidays abroad to spend precious time with his boyfriend had slowly morphed into an uncomfortable, almost worrying visit. At first, Malik had considered the time of year as the culprit – after all, late October was halfway between both their birthdays, neither of which held particularly cheery memories. And this was also around the anniversary of Ryou losing his mother and sister and gaining the Ring – albeit, with a few years in-between.

Yet almost this entire trip, something about Ryou had been… off. Their usual movie marathons, late-night RPG campaigns and date nights at absurdly ritzy restaurants still happened with clockwork regularity. But the man who usually brightened up a whole room with just the smallest smile had been nigh erratic and irritable lately – never taking his frustrations out on Malik, yet always appearing with a tinge of anxiety and awkwardness that Ryou had never displayed even in his most vulnerable years. 

So to see Ryou now, asleep and more or less dead to the world and all its burdens… Malik couldn’t help but reach a hand out to caress Ryou’s cheek as gentle as if he were stroking a kitten.

Dark splotches along pale skin caught Malik’s eye – a remnant of their frankly _okay_ sex the previous night. It was another item to add to the list of Malik’s worries. Normally, they’d be unable to keep their hands off each other, sometimes spending full days naked around Ryou’s flat – though, more often just in bed – and touching skin that was at once familiar and foreign after so many months apart.

But aside from a frantic fuck the instant Malik had set his bags down, Ryou had been oddly distant this time around – as if he was avoiding initiating affection unless completely overwhelmed by Malik’s tongue against his stomach or his fingers tugging his long hair.

While Ryou’s flat had seen its fair share of intimacy across all its walls and floors, yesterday evening’s sex had merely begun and ended in bed. A lowering of a phone, a light touch along a thigh, an unsure leaning over to meet soft lips, a series of stifled moans that never changed in volume whether it was their tongues or their cocks that met.

The cruel irony was that – despite that lackluster conjugal – Malik now felt himself grow hard remembering the small whine Ryou had given as he’d impaled himself from above, the almost lazy thrusts between their thin bodies as Ryou had ridden him, the choked proclamation of love that had ceased when Ryou bit his lip as he came.

It seemed even “I love you’s” had grown scarce lately. Or maybe, Malik reassured himself, he and Ryou had just reached the point in their relationship where the phrase didn’t need to be said like a grand gesture anymore – reserved instead for moments of true, unadulterated passion and exquisite, sublime happiness.

Whatever the reason, something about Ryou’s behaviour didn’t sit well with Malik, and it was only nagging at him more and more with each passing day. Normally, he would confront the issue head-on. But for the first time in his life, he genuinely feared what the outcome might be if he pressed too hard – that it would just shatter the fragile cocoon of glass that embodied their relationship and confirm his suspicions that Ryou wanted to break—

To stem the well of anxiety in his gut, Malik hovered over Ryou’s exposed chest and laid a trail of indulgent kisses across his sternum and abs. He threaded his fingers into Ryou’s silky hair and made to straddle his pronounced hip bones as his lips made their way around cheeks, lashes, neck, collarbone – finally landing on their desired target with just the slightest hint of tongue.

A quiet groan from Ryou was swallowed up in the kiss – and Malik started as he felt his boyfriend’s body thrust up into his own, as if by reflex. A surge of excitement flooded Malik’s system, but he kept his actions gentle. Very carefully, he lifted himself up to kiss right down Ryou’s middle, past his prominent ribcage, along his stomach, to the fine white hairs that laid above where Malik _really_ wanted to be.

With one hand, he caressed Ryou’s thigh in featherlight brushes. With the other, Malik massaged the warm sack that laid between Ryou’s opened legs – eventually wrapping his fingers around the pink, blushing shaft. Malik wasted no time in licking a stripe up the semi-hard cock – wetting it enough before he lowered himself down, taking each hardening inch in so very slowly. 

When he’d swallowed more than half of Ryou’s cock, Malik’s eyes darted up to get just a glimpse of his boyfriend’s pleasured face as he slept – to maybe see him fist at the sheets or arch his neck with a sigh.

But instead, Malik was surprised to find narrowed chestnut eyes boring into him at the top of the bed. Malik withdrew his mouth and was rewarded with a choked, content moan from the man above.

 _“Mhmm…_ Couldn’t sleep?”

Ryou stretched his arms out wide, making his shoulders crack too loudly for someone his age. He seemed caught in-between awake and dreamy – and Malik flushed at how adorable, striking, _beautiful_ his boyfriend looked right now. He wanted to frame this moment in his mind forever – and so said as much.

“Hard to when you look like _that.”_

Malik closed his eyes and leaned over once more to take Ryou down his throat – before a firm hand pat his head and gestured him up.

 _“Ngh—_ Not now, Malik. Please.” Ryou suddenly looked more awake – more worried like he normally did these days – but Malik acquiesced. “It’s a bit early.”

“Sure.” Still eager to take advantage of their mutual arousals, Malik pulled the duvet back completely and crawled up Ryou’s body so that they laid together on their sides. With a coy voice, Malik lowered his eyelids and leaned in for a series of quick pecks. “Is there… anything… you’d like… instead?…”

“This is… kinda nice…”

As if unsure, Ryou matched Malik’s motions so that they were wrapped up together in each other’s arms. Malik chuckled at the sweet innocence of their position – glad to at least still have _this_ between them. 

“You work too hard during the week, _hayati._ What do you do when I’m not here to look after you?” Malik brushed a loose strand of hair behind Ryou’s ear and kissed his nose, hoping to relax him. But Ryou almost seemed in a trance the longer they stayed pressed against each other’s warmth. Malik furrowed his brow and gripped tight to his boyfriend’s quivering body. “Ryou—”

“Sorry, I’m just—” Ryou seemed to will himself to stop shaking, only halfway succeeding. “Nervous energy.”

“It’s okay. I’m excited, too.” Malik half-forced a smile, trying to convince himself that this was all just Ryou really needing the upcoming break they’d planned – and _not_ him getting bored of their relationship and ending what had been the happiest years of their lives and— “Big day, huh?”

Ryou averted his gaze and ran his palms down the raised scars on Malik’s back. The familiar, intimate gesture was almost enough to distract Malik from the nervous tone that Ryou’s voice took on next. _Almost._

“Yeah… Big day.”

* * *

Malik knew there was a certain irony in his preferred choice of vehicle. It hadn’t been a boat or a plane that had caught his attention all those years ago when he’d gotten his first taste of the outside world. Instead, he’d been drawn to the motorcycle – the one mode of transportation that symbolised independence _and_ attachment.

There was a certain thrill Malik had gotten during that first year learning to ride the fascinating contraption. Forgoing all age restrictions, he’d insisted on his thirteenth birthday that Rishid help him learn how to balance, how to stay steady in his path, how to drive the bike all on his own. Always a fast learner, Malik got the hang of it quickly and never wanted to stop.

In fact, that was all Malik did in those first few years after the Ceremonial Duel. Drive to classes at the local university. Drive to his part-time job at Luxor’s tourist traps to earn extra cash and, more importantly, stave off boredom. Drive on the highways at night to clear his head as the wind kissed his face and his jacket whipped behind.

Always by himself. Always alone.

The few relationships Malik had dared to pursue in Egypt never got to the point where he felt comfortable enough to let the other person hold him on his waist, lean into his scarred back, achieve that level of public intimacy which should have set his heart soaring. In the end, he always ended up riding solo.

But when Ryou had asked for a lift home from his internship one day soon after his arrival in Egypt… it took Malik until much later to realise how _easily_ he had allowed that level of closeness.

They’d talked before, exchanged a couple e-mails. But after that first, unplanned ride, something shifted in their acquaintanceship towards genuine friendship. And within a few months after Ryou’s departure – under the cover of darkness in Domino to hide from any prying eyes – that friendship forged by an easy acceptance of one another and a shared bond over past traumas turned into the most fulfilling relationship of Malik’s life. Of _both_ their lives, he hoped.

That had been five years ago, and the thrill of having Ryou hold onto him tight whether they whizzed through crowded streets or rural backroads never failed to make Malik feel as giddy as that first time.

Even now, with everything hanging in the balance.

They’d been on the road for almost an hour, driving to a nearby village which promised a brief break from the hustle and bustle of city life. Ryou had actually been the one to suggest the road trip almost the instant that Malik arrived – and Malik knew enough about his boyfriend to know that once Ryou set his mind to something, even the gods themselves couldn’t change it.

Yet even after the morning’s cuddle, Ryou had seemed preoccupied and on edge as they’d packed their bags and loaded up the camping gear onto the back of the motorcycle. At one point, Malik had caught Ryou staring at him with such a look of _regret_ – but Malik just shook his head and convinced himself that it was only his mind playing tricks on him, that the fact that it was a particularly grey and rainy day was affecting them both, that it was only the beginning of the end—

“I think that’s it up there, Mal.”

Ryou’s voice – with the little nickname that secretly made Malik swoon whenever it was uttered – carried over the roar of the motorcycle. Malik felt steady hands grasp him firmer around his waist – and the rain and anxiety and overactive imagination disappeared for the remainder of the trip as he sped faster towards the quaint houses and humble shops ahead.

The literal voice of disquiet in his head be damned. Malik was going to make sure this was the best weekend he could ever give his boyfriend – for as long as he could still call Ryou that.

* * *

Malik’s grand schemes fell through almost immediately when they parked the motorcycle in the now-pelting rain and ran for shelter to the closest shop – only to discover it was closed.

“It’s not a holiday, though…”

“Remember it’s Sunday. A lot of these smaller places sometimes won’t open until later because of church services.”

Malik scoffed at the not-so-foreign concept – trying his best not to remember the way that day’s or even weeks’ worth of activities would cease depending on the ancient traditions observed by his bastard father.

Shaking his head of both the troubling memory and the rain slicking his hair, Malik pulled Ryou into his body for warmth and maneuvered them to a lit building nearby.

“Oh, the pub’s open at least.”

“Always thinking with your stomach, aren’t you?”

Malik placed a small kiss atop Ryou’s tangled locks – and chose to ignore the way Ryou tensed against him as they entered the inviting, homey setting.

At least, that was the initial impression.

Almost as soon as they walked in, Malik felt a series of eyes cutting into both him and Ryou. It didn’t take a genius to realise why. Aside from the obvious fact that everyone else was distinctly _not_ foreign-looking, they stood out even more with their mismatch of Malik’s biker aesthetic and Ryou’s half-grungy half-fashion disaster sweater look. It probably didn’t help matters that they still held tight to each other as they approached a hostess at the front who looked like she was all dolled up with nowhere to go.

“Table or booth?”

“Table, please.”

Ryou spoke before Malik could answer with “booth,” and broke away from their hold. The woman ushered them further into the near-ancient structure of warm wood and creaky floorboards. Her gaze roved over gods knew what on their bodies once they were seated, making Malik’s eyes roll and Ryou’s cheeks blush. A few drinks orders later, they were left in relative peace as they mulled over the menu.

Yet the distance Malik felt between him and Ryou was like the waters that usually separated them. Normally, they opted to sit next to each other in booths at restaurants – aiming to be as close together as possible. So to suddenly switch it up like this…

“There was plenty of room to choose from, _ya amar.”_

Malik resorted to Arabic to calm his nerves. But Ryou’s forehead creased as he answered in Japanese.

“I just wanted some space to stretch my legs after the long ride.”

Now Malik smirked. He continued in his mother tongue as he traced a foot up Ryou’s leg under the table.

“I know another _ride_ that would help with—”

“What’ll it be then, lads?”

Malik's boot nearly got torn off as Ryou slammed his leg down and turned his attention towards the expectant hostess. As Ryou put in his order, Malik held in his physical and emotional pain and glanced over the menu. Immediately, he noticed a problem.

“Is there anything here without meat?”

The woman shot Malik a look as if he’d just insulted the integrity of her mother.

“Cook’s got a cod fillet special today.”

“That’s… still seafood.”

“Potato leek soup is lovely, darling.”

“It says here that it contains chicken stock.”

“Dearie me, you’re a hard one, ain’t you? Don’t get many of your type ‘round here.”

The pressure in the air was palpable as Malik’s frustrations threatened to leave his body.

“My type of—”

“Bubble and squeak. Could that be managed?” Ryou interrupted to diffuse the situation. The hostess nodded in affirmation and left before the ticking timebomb of Malik could be set off. He looked back to Ryou – who sank into the back of the sturdy chair as if trying to disappear. “It’s a hard dish to mess up, Mal. I promise you won’t go hungry.”

Malik felt his anger dissipate at Ryou’s sincerity – though, it was replaced by concern as he noticed how Ryou leaned away from any direct contact with him, how his eyes wandered everywhere except on Malik’s face, how everything in Ryou’s body language and tone screamed that he had something terrible to say but didn’t want to break Malik’s heart. Not _yet,_ at least.

“Maybe it’s _you_ who’s looked out for _me_ this whole time.” Malik parroted his statement from that morning and stretched out his hand – a ritual they usually played out during meals. “You always know how to calm me down.”

Ryou contemplated Malik’s palm for a few seconds before finally, wordlessly, taking hold with just the tips of his pale fingers. It was enough to make Malik’s heart flutter and break into a thousand pieces all at once. He didn’t dare brush his foot against Ryou’s leg or offer a flirty innuendo again.

Instead, Malik just smiled once and pulled his hand away… as he heard various coughs and felt intrusive eyes surround them where they sat.

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of the meal passed without incident – and Malik had to admit that the hearty food Ryou had ordered on his behalf was indeed quite good, if not overly rich. Yet a part of his soul still felt very empty by the time they left to purview the shops.

The bleak sky still reigned above. As Ryou walked ahead, Malik stuck out his tongue and flipped off the foreboding clouds – if the gods were having a go at his predicament by just adding salt to the wound, Malik wanted to make damn sure they knew he wasn’t laughing.

Ryou led Malik into the nearest bookshop first, eager to travel up every single one of its aisles in search of rare texts on tabletop games or the occult. Malik simply stared in bemused awe as Ryou went on about the history of this particular strategy or that certain spell.

They passed a few shelves of books about the early 1900’s archeological digs in the Valley of the Kings, which piqued Malik’s interest enough to page through a volume. He chuckled at both how uninterested Ryou was in the topic – despite it technically being his life’s work – and how pompous the author of this particular book was. Granted, Malik could only make out every other word in the thick text – for all his many linguistic talents, reading English was one of his few shortcomings. But there were enough pictures of white-skinned foreigners next to ornate sarcophagi to make Malik wince and place the volume face-down.

When he went to see how Ryou was getting on, the stack of books that reached his chin made Malik raise his eyebrows.

“Got enough books there? Remember we’ve got the bike, so—”

“I know. I’ll just have them mailed to the flat.”

Ryou approached the front of the shop with his cash in hand – before Malik stopped the cashier from accepting it. He pulled out his own currency and slapped it on the counter.

“I can pay for this. My treat.”

“No, I’d…” With worry, Ryou looked to Malik, then the unamused cashier, then back at Malik. “I’d rather do it myself. But thank you.”

“It’s no trouble at all, _eini—”_

“Mal, please. No arguments. Not today.”

The wording caught Malik off-guard. Before he knew it, Ryou had paid and they were off to the next shop.

* * *

Malik hardly said a word the rest of their excursion, though he still smiled whenever Ryou looked his way or bumped his shoulder towards somewhere that looked interesting. Malik found a few trinkets of interest, but held off on buying anything – which became increasingly hard as he kept seeing little items that reminded him of Ryou. But based on how his boyfriend had been acting, Malik had the feeling that trying to surprise him with a gift would prove fruitless at best or cause an argument at worst.

He recalled how they _never_ argued much before now, and wondered what was causing so much anxiety in his boyfriend that it had brought them to this point – on a trip that was supposed to be relaxing for _Ryou,_ no less.

It didn’t help that everywhere they walked, both men kept getting looks from the locals. Not predatory or malicious looks, but still… _looks._ It was akin to the first year after Malik had received his initiation, or when he’d revealed the Pharaoh’s secrets after Battle City – when all attention was so focused on how he looked and what his body could provide for others instead of for himself.

As such, Malik’s panic was on high alert as they walked through the cobbled streets and little shops. And as the day wore on and the sun began to lower, Malik felt his energy fully drain and was about to tell Ryou they should start looking for where they’d camp that night – before Ryou caught him off-guard for the second time in one afternoon.

“Everything okay, Ryou?” Malik forewent any pet names this time, but approached his boyfriend and tracked his eyeline towards… “Oh.”

Ryou was staring at a little girl with fair hair and a big grin as she ran towards her waifish mother. A young boy – older than the girl – chased behind and caught her in his arms as they fell into the dirt, eliciting cackles of delight.

“That’s just like what Amane and I used to…”

Ryou didn’t twitch this time when Malik laid a hand along his shoulder and pulled him in close.

“We can head out now if you want.”

Ryou nodded and they turned to leave – before a loud voice boomed from where they’d just looked.

“Told you to be careful with her dress! Your mum and I ain’t made of money, you know!”

The tone almost froze Malik in place as he recalled a similar scenario from what felt like a lifetime ago – when his own brother would be chastised for the slightest provocations.

Breaking away from Ryou, Malik turned to see a brute of a man grab the young boy’s wrist. The little girl looked on the verge of tears, and the mother bowed her head but made no move to help the shaken boy.

“Hey, asshole. He’s just a kid. Let him be.”

Malik was seeing red so much that he didn’t even realise where he stood – until he was eye-to-eye with the man who could barely be called a “father.”

“What’s it to you, Paki?”

Malik ignored the slur – however incorrect and offensive it was – and glanced down.

“Are you alright?”

Using his best English possible, Malik sounded out the words to the boy – who nodded and took the chance to wrench his hand free and run to his mother.

Malik sighed in relief at the sight, then felt himself pushed back as the man stepped forward.

“You get the hell away from _my_ family, you ponce, or I’ll call the coppers on you.”

The tension was ripe for Malik to throw hands then and there. He formed a fist and breathed heavy as the need to defend himself grew with every ugly insult and violent gesture. Just as the breaking point peaked—

“Please! We’re on our way out! Don't hurt—”

Neither saw Ryou standing in-between them in time, and one of the man’s assaults ended up right on his left shoulder – sending Ryou toppling to the ground and onto his scarred hand, which started to bleed.

“Sod off, both of you!”

Malik wasn’t entirely sure what happened next. He was so overcome by anger that he didn’t see how he and the man tore at each other’s clothes and skin – how a passing policeman _did_ have to break the scene up, resulting in the man’s arrest thanks to the grateful mother’s testimony.

But when it was all said and done, Malik still ended up with a bloodied lip, a fractured pride and an immense pang of guilt as he helped Ryou off the ground to get him patched up. By the time they finally hit the road again, it seemed the sun – like Malik – had also given up on the day.

* * *

They travelled for several miles – Malik’s motorcycle the only light source aside from the stars. They had no idea how late it was, but neither said a word again until Malik stopped at a designated campsite. As Ryou dismounted and walked to an open patch of land, Malik leaned against his bike and half-choked on his words.

“I’m so sorry, Ryou. I didn’t mean to let that fucker mess with you.”

“This looks like a good spot, right? Seems dry enough…”

Ryou pat the ground with his Converse and kicked up a few bits of dirt. He busied himself by grabbing the bags off the bike, and started to set up the tent – bypassing Malik completely. For Malik’s part, he inhaled sharply and sauntered over with his hands in his pockets when the structure was nearly done.

“Look, I didn’t mean for it to get that out of hand, but—”

“Pass me that rope, please, Mal—”

“Are you even listening?!”

Ryou visibly shuddered at the rise of Malik’s voice as it echoed through the dark forest – immediately sending a wave of regret through the air. Malik made to apologise, before—

“Malik… I think… we should talk.”

There it was. The moment Malik had been dreading for so long now. He was helpless to stop it – hell, he’d been the one to spur it on in the end. Playing dumb – and positive Ryou could see through the act – Malik rubbed the back of his head.

“What about?” Malik forced a smile on his face, afraid that the slightest sign of weakness would bring about the death knell. He maintained unflinching eye contact with his boyfriend – who looked as if he might run into the woods at any moment. “Ryou, you’re scaring me. What’s up?”

Several awkward seconds passed before Ryou collapsed onto the ground and pulled his legs up to his chest. His voice was steady but wistful when he spoke again.

“I thought this would make everything better for us. That things would be easier this way. That here we wouldn’t have to hide, but…” Ryou’s words weren’t exactly what Malik expected – but at this point he couldn’t fathom anything other than the worst. “I just wanted us to have a nice time together before you go back home… To make this awful time of year memorable so maybe we wouldn’t…”

“Ryou—”

“I hate feeling this way.”

Now Malik dared to take a step forward so he hovered above – dared to finally say what had been on his mind for over a week.

“You think I _don’t?_ Ryou, you’re the strongest person I know, and I love you for it. And I… don’t want to lose you. Call me pathetic, but I don’t want to wake up in my bed back home a week from now with the living nightmare of not having you as my boyfriend.”

“But I don’t want you as my _boyfriend_ anymore, Malik.”

Malik nearly screamed in anguish then and there – before realising where the emphasis had been placed and that Ryou’s face held the faintest smile and that his eyes twinkled in the scant moonlight and that he was suddenly holding Malik’s hands tight and tracing his fingers over one particular digit and twisting his body so that he supported himself on one knee and oh gods was this really happening—

“I wanted to ask you during one of those silly rom-coms you love so much, or when you took us out for dinner at that place which was way too expensive the other night. I even had a whole idea of doing something special with our current Monster World campaign, but the circumstances never lined up right. Then I thought maybe I could ask you this morning. But the ring! It was supposed to have arrived by now. I had it ordered especially for you, since I know you love those sorts of things, and I wanted to show I could do something nice for you since you do so much for me. It’s gold and purple and so _you,_ but it never arriv—”

Malik spaced out for almost all of Ryou’s spiel before coming to his senses. He lifted Ryou up from his position on the ground and captured his lips in a very deep, very thankful kiss. Malik didn’t even register the pain from the fight as he spoke against Ryou’s mouth and moaned more than murmured.

“You beautiful… silly… wonderful… _my Ryou.”_

_“Malik…”_

They didn’t speak for another ten minutes. There was nothing that _could_ be said. It was like a wave of relief had washed over Malik and all he could focus on was staying in this cool, wet, fear-inducing dark forest with the one person he loved more than anyone else.

Their mouths stayed pressed together in a slow, languid lip lock as their hands wrapped firm around each other – not even caring if they graced over areas that had been hurt in the last couple hours. Ryou sighed and parted his lips for Malik to gain entrance. They both groaned as their tongues and fingers mapped out the shape of every curve and crevice that they knew so well and still loved after so long. Malik ran a hand through Ryou’s hair and broke away to kiss and bite his neck when Ryou keened at the pull. The sound reverberated in the night, and spurred Malik on to bring Ryou into his lap so that they fell to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. They both laughed at the awkwardness, and then moaned in slight pain at their bruises – only making them laugh harder.

Malik beamed at the sight of Ryou finally relaxed after so long with so much on his mind. How could he have ever thought the worst? How could he have ever doubted that this perfect human being could even exist – and had continuously chosen him over all others time and time again? Then, remembering his conversation with Isis earlier…

“You asked my siblings for their blessing, didn’t you?”

Even in the darkness, Malik could feel Ryou’s cheeks heat up as he confessed.

“I wasn’t sure about clan traditions, and Isis and Rishid have been so good to me, and—”

“Ryou, they _adore_ you. And fuck any traditions we may be breaking. I’m still the head of my clan, so the only one who gets to pass judgment is me.”

Malik bumped their noses together as Ryou stroked a hand up and down Malik’s thin waist – teasing the shirt underneath his jacket so it was exposed to the cool breeze around them.

“We’ll still have to sort out a ton of paperwork to make it legal here.”

 _“Psh._ Think I operated a crime organisation for so many years without picking up a few management skills?” Malik mirrored Ryou’s hands by toying with the top of Ryou’s jeans. “You and I have faced way worse. Hell, we’ve _done_ worse.”

When Malik twined his fingers in the back of Ryou’s belt loops just above his ass, his boyfriend fluttered his eyes shut and sighed in appreciation – and slight sadness.

“It always sucks when you leave, Mal. I’ve lost so much since I was a child, been alone for so long. Even with _him_ I…” The spirit rarely came up in their conversations anymore, but Malik would be a fool to ban discussions of that unfortunate time in his boyfriend’s life. Yet Ryou didn’t press on with the topic – and instead sported a wry smile as he sat upright and considered Malik carefully. “You didn’t say… _it_ yet.”

Malik immediately caught Ryou’s drift, and so played coy himself.

“You didn’t technically _ask.”_ Malik rolled onto his back and rested his hands behind his head – baring his lithe, muscular frame for Ryou’s eyes only. “But I know the _perfect_ way you can get the answer out of me.”

It took all of two seconds for both men to plunge into the tent and unhurriedly strip one another. Ryou set up a flashlight in the far left corner just as Malik pulled him back against his bare chest. He undid Ryou’s jeans one button at a time, teasing the bulge at the front with light fingers.

“We’ll have to be quiet… Don’t want to risk anyone coming for us.”

Ryou rested his head against Malik’s shoulder and maneuvered his hand behind to feel at Malik’s own arousal tenting his boxers.

“Let the moon and stars be jealous. Those tightwads down the road could learn a thing or two anyway.”

Both men gasped loudly as they worked up their erections until they ached. Malik slipped his hands under Ryou’s jeans and pulled them off, making his cock pop free.

“That’s the Ryou I know.” Malik smirked as Ryou turned around and – pale fingers against tan chest – pushed him down into the bundle of blankets they’d brought along. “I love you when you’re stubborn.”

“And I love _you.”_

They were now laid completely bare on top of each other, badly resisting every urge to give into the friction that their bodies craved. Ryou cracked first and slid his hand in-between them – he pumped their cocks together slowly and in earnest. Malik followed soon after, laying his hand over Ryou’s and driving the pace slightly quicker as the tips of their erections wet their shafts and fingers.

“Do it, Ryou. _Love me.”_

They’d done this hundreds if not thousands of times by now – yet all the same, Ryou’s breath hitched at the genuine desperation in Malik’s voice. He crawled backwards just enough to grab a small bottle from his bag, and made short work of pouring its contents onto his fingers and warming it with his breath. Very gently, he circled Malik’s entrance and pressed a digit into its heat, eliciting a low moan from both of them.

“As long as I live, Malik… I _will_ love you.”

 _“Ngh—_ Even among the reeds?”

“Of course. You’ll finally be the god you are.”

Malik grinned at the stroking of his ego – before his cock was stroked in time with Ryou's insertion of another finger pressing in deeper.

“What’s a mere god to a living angel?” Malik now panted at the sensation and marveled at how – with the light shining behind Ryou’s hair – he really _did_ look like he had a halo surrounding him. Malik didn’t even realise a tear fell from his eye as yet another finger eased him open – he was so lost in the intimacy of the moment. “I don’t deserve you— _ah!”_

“You’re right.” Ryou withdrew his fingers when he found the spot Malik craved, and covered his cock in cool lube. He pulled Malik up so they sat chest-to-chest. Both of them were flushed and relaxed, and they held each other’s faces as Ryou finally eased in. “We deserve… _each other…”_

Malik let loose a soundless cry when he felt Ryou fill him up completely. They stayed sat like that for a good while – just basking in the familiar, indescribable connection they shared. They leaned in to kiss full lips and heated skin, and moved just enough to build the tension up so that it could have been cut by a knife. As Malik drew a hand down to trace the five marks along Ryou’s chest, Ryou moved his hands up above Malik’s ass to the bit of unscarred skin that always drove him wild.

“Ryou— _ngh—_ Gods, don’t stop touching me.”

“I never will.”

They pulled back enough to actually move, though still took it slow – building the pleasure up beat by torturous beat. Malik bit his lip by accident and winced as his teeth grazed at the split – prompting Ryou to grab his head and pull him into a kiss to distract from the pain. Ryou winced for only a moment as Malik twined his fingers with those on Ryou’s cut hand, before sighing in gratitude.

Their movements grew faster. Ryou’s thrusts below were insistent and steady as he searched for the angle that would make Malik see stars. With a gentle push, Malik fell back into the blankets as Ryou readjusted himself and eased back in – the sensation of being filled at least ten times more intense now. Ryou whispered sweet nothings against Malik’s sweat-slick skin as he kissed down his neck to his collarbone, then his abs. He captured a perked nipple gently between his teeth, then soothed any discomfort away with a gentle, circling lick. All the while, he thrust faster and harder, searching for the spot he’d found earlier.

 _“Mhmm—_ I love you, Malik.”

“I love— _oh, gods, fuck me, Ryou—"_

Malik flung his head back with a loud cry as Ryou hit directly inside him again and again – each time better than the last. Ryou grabbed at Malik’s hands and held them above his head, and Malik threw his legs around Ryou’s waist to urge him deeper inside. Just as Malik felt he might break from pure ecstasy—

“Malik—” Ryou suddenly slowed his movements and stared down at Malik. They caught their breath as they took in the sight of each other on the brink of pleasure. Malik hitched up with a choked moan – and realised Ryou’s cock had inadvertently stopped right where he wanted. Ryou's calm whispers somehow made Malik even more aroused than he was already. “Stay with me…”

“I’m not going anywhere… You’ll never be alone again, _ya amar…”_

Malik spoke as if on the verge of tears. It was a miracle that he could even form words – he was so blissed out from the overstimulation across his body and the flashes of light in front of his eyes from Ryou pressing against him _right there._ Yet they both continued to whisper as they bridged the gap between them.

“Be mine, Mal…”

“I’ve been yours since we first met, _hayati…”_

With one shaky hand, Malik broke from Ryou’s hold to stroke his cheek, and pulled him down into a sloppy, fervent kiss. The pace gradually picked up again as bone grated against bone and their cries turned into brash shouts. They gazed at each other as the pleasure built on their faces, not wanting to ever let this particular moment slip out of their memories.

“Mal— Malik— Marry me?”

“Yes, Ryou! _Yes!”_

It was a no-brainer – literally, as all cognitive thought left Malik’s head and he basked in the sensation of Ryou showering him with love and affection. They kissed, thrust, hitched, nipped, became one, drew higher and higher until Ryou keened and pounded into Malik with all the urgency he needed.

“So close— say it again— I’m gonna—”

One of Ryou’s hands finally came between their bodies when they both knew they couldn’t last any longer – pumping Malik’s throbbing cock to the point where he thought he might pass out.

“Gods, Ryou— Yes, yes— Fuck yes— _yes— ahhhh!”_

Malik felt Ryou tense and pulse inside, filling him with a sublime warmth that spurred his own orgasm. He spilled out in several short spurts over pale fingers as Ryou still jerked inside him with the remnants of his climax. When they finally recovered, they were both somehow unsurprised to find tears in their eyes. Under the low light and with shy smiles, they wiped at each other’s lashes and breathed easy for the first time in over a week.

There was still much that would have to be done, but all of that could wait. What mattered now was how Ryou looked at him as if he was the only person who existed, how they would always belong to each other, how even with everything that had happened before… they could forge a new path.

Bringing their foreheads together, Malik smirked and bopped Ryou on the nose.

“So… Ryou Ishtar?”

“What’s wrong with Malik Bakura?”

Ryou scoffed, and they tangled in a playful embrace.

“We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. You’re right, you know.” Malik couldn’t keep his eyes off Ryou – who had a faraway look, as if he was about to fall asleep. Pulling each other into a protective hug, they held the tattered parts of themselves together where no one else could ever hurt them again. “After everything we’ve faced… this is _definitely_ what we both deserve.”

* * *

Keeping his promise, Malik made sure to tell Isis and Rishid the good news first thing when he awoke – _just_ quickly enough before Ryou pulled him back under the blankets and made him cry out in no less than four different languages as his tongue and teeth left marks Malik _actually_ craved across his body.

Unbeknownst to both of them, the ring was waiting on Ryou’s doorstep the entire evening they were away, but it mattered little at this point if it had arrived the day before or not at all. They had each other – that was all the proof of their devotion that they’d need. Besides, Ryou joked later, perhaps they’d had enough of “rings” for two lifetimes.

And that afternoon when they rode back home – _their home,_ for wherever they'd live would define that sacred word – Malik and Ryou left behind in the woods the confines of their tumultuous pasts, society’s judgments and the fear of never belonging.

Instead, the two blissfully happy men drove towards the future that they would write on their own terms.

Never alone. Always together. Forever and always.


End file.
